


If Ever I Stray

by couchbarnacle



Series: Pave the Way Series [12]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adult!Sherlock, College!John, Kid!Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-19 05:02:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/couchbarnacle/pseuds/couchbarnacle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's back from Florida! </p><p>And I'm back from my hiatus...</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Ever I Stray

_Brilliant. JW_

_You sound surprised. I’m rather offended. SH_

_It was a text message, you berk. You can’t discern vocal intonation via text. JW_

_I’m a genius. SH_

_Which is exactly why you should know that I think you’re brilliant. Off to class. Have a safe flight home. JW_

“Sherlock?” Mrs. Hudson called out again.

“Yes?” Sherlock said continuing to flick through his text messages.

“Oh, I see,” Mrs. Hudson smirked, “Texting your young man, again? Back in England? Is he handsome?”

“Yes,” Sherlock continued distracted before realizing the implications of his response, “I mean, no. Not…I’m texting a friend. My friend. John. He’s my friend.”

“Oh,” she said laughing, “I see. Well, I’m sure your _friend_ can’t wait to see you.”

Sherlock cleared his throat awkwardly finishing off the last of his tea and rising to ensure that he had his boarding pass.

“Well dear,” Mrs. Hudson sighed happily, “I can’t thank you enough.”

“It was an incredibly intricate and fascinating study into the inner workings of an individual with narcissistic personality disorder in combination with dysphonetic dyslexia. I do thank you for bringing it to my attention,” Sherlock answered.

“That level of excitement just isn’t decent,” she sighed with a small smile, “But have a safe flight home. And do try to stay in touch. I’ll be returning to England myself in the summer and someone has to make sure that you’re surviving on something other than cigarettes and bad coffee.”

“Dull,” Sherlock smiled before turning to hail a cab, “Goodbye, Mrs. Hudson.”

“Until later then, Mr. Holmes,” Mrs. Hudson said.

00000000000000000

“Really, Mycroft,” Sherlock growled at the absurdly large bundle of vibrantly yellow balloons and the accompanying glittery sign with his name on it.

“We couldn’t take the chance that you wouldn’t see us, now could we?” John asked with a smirk.

“Was this your idea, then?” Sherlock turned to his young friend with a scowl.

“Come on,” John cajoled, “Don’t be like that. It’s funny. I’m funny.”

“Hilarious,” Sherlock before waving at the minions holding the balloons and signs, “Go away before I tell your respective partners about the shag you just had in the airport bathroom.”

John chuckled as Mycroft’s employees scurried away leaving just the three of them.

“Welcome back, brother,” Mycroft said completely unfazed by their greeting, “Safe trip, I assume? Despite the pilot suffering from sleep apnea?”

“Obvious,” Sherlock muttered, “What brings you both here to collect me?”

“We thought we’d surprise you!” John chimed in, “And take you out for a proper lunch now that you’re back.”

“And why is Mycroft here?” Sherlock asked.

“Well…” John hedged before Mycroft cut in, “I’m investing financially in this little endeavor. Plus, Mummy asked me to check in on you because you seem physically incapable of picking up a telephone and calling her.”

“No money then?” Sherlock asked John.

“Barely 5p to my name,” John said with a rueful grin.

“So, you called Mycroft so that he would buy you lunch?” Sherlock asked, “That’s devious. A bit common, perhaps, but devious all the same.”

“Sure, let’s go with that,” John laughed, “Grab your bag, you great prat, and we’ll go eat.”

Sherlock let himself be led out of the airport but quickly made his way to a taxi instead of Mycroft’s posh, personal car.

“Really, Sherlock?” Mycroft sighed.

“The Criterion, correct?” Sherlock said ignoring him, “Coming, John?”

John climbed in with Sherlock and watched with an amused grin as Mycroft huffed slightly before allowing the driver to open the door for him. They made their way quickly to the restaurant and Sherlock was flushed with residual excitement at explaining away the more detailed points of Mrs. Hudson’s case.

“Well,” Mycroft said rising from the table, “I must be off. Work, you’ll understand. I’ll see that your luggage gets delivered to your flat.”

“Yes, yes,” Sherlock waved him away, “Go away.”

“The bill is of course taken care of,” Mycroft said, grasping his umbrella after adjusting the sleeves of his coat, “Oh, and Sherlock?”

“What is it?” Sherlock asked impatiently.

“The shoes were rubber soled,” he said smugly, “That should have been obvious.”

Sherlock huffed angrily as Mycroft strode confidently out of the restaurant.

“You really shouldn’t let him get to you,” John laughed.

“And you shouldn’t let your dorm-mate talk you into pints four times a week,” Sherlock snapped.

“Oi,” John said offended, “You git. Bit tetchy, aren’t you?”

“I need more work,” Sherlock slumped over in his chair dramatically, “A new case. Something.”

“You’ve been back for less than two hours,” John muttered, “I owe Mycroft fifty quid.”

“Taking bets with Mycroft?” Sherlock scoffed, “That was an incredibly unintelligent decision.”

“Remember when I was small and cute and you were nice to me all the time,” John sighed, “I miss those days.”

“I don’t,” Sherlock answered, “You’re much better companion now with your ability to see over the countertops. Though, admittedly, not by a large margin.”

“Short jokes now,” John replied, “Hilarious.”

“Dating someone new then?” Sherlock asked, changing the subject, “Male.”

“James,” John answered, “Chemistry Major at Uni.”

“He’s cheating on you,” Sherlock said without tact.

“He would be cheating on me,” John countered, “If we were actually dating.”

“Casual sex partners,” Sherlock replied dully, “Messy, emotional trainwrecks.”

“Alright,” John sighed, “This above and beyond your usual level of snark. What’s going on?”

“What?” Sherlock asked, “Nothing. Nothing’s ‘going on’.”

“Something’s wrong,” John said, “You’re acting like a primetime wanker.”

“Is this something that you and my brother have chats about?” Sherlock bit out.

“Bloody hell,” John said shocked, “Are you mad that Mycroft and I talk?”

“That’s absurd,” Sherlock snapped but wasn’t able to meet John’s gaze.

“Uh huh,” John answered letting the subject drop, “So I got you a present.”

“What?” Sherlock asked, “Why?”

“Because I’m a masochist apparently,” John sighed, “Come on. It’s a bit of a walk.”

They walked in companionable silence as Sherlock let the comfort and bustle of London settle into his bones. He’d been surprised at the amount of discomfort he’d felt at being away from London for several months. Florida had been sweltering and loud. London’s cool breeze and stilted pedestrian silence seemed to calm something inside him. He glanced over at his friend and he felt something else settle inside him. It was incredibly good to be home.

Sherlock knew where they were going. It was obvious by John’s texting and the route through the City that they were going to New Scotland Yard but he had no trouble grinning largely at John’s gesture of excitement at the building.

“I got you a case!” John said with a flourish.

“Well done,” Sherlock smirked, “I’ll keep you around for a bit longer, shall I?”

“Poncy git,” John grumbled but was unable to smother his grin.

Lestrade was hunched over his desk angrily filling out forms when they approached.

“Really, Lestrade?” Sherlock scoffed, “Another child? Don’t you think one is enough?”

“Missed you too,” Lestrade glanced up with a tired smirk, “Got a cold case for you. Blood spatter. Three confessions. No conclusive evidence. You’ll love it.”

“With absolutely no respect at all, Lestrade, I highly doubt that you’d be able to identify an interesting case if it bit you.”

“Yep,” Lestrade sighed, “That right there is why I’m the only person on the force willing to work with you.”

“You need me,” Sherlock answered.

“I take it back,” Lestrade said, “I didn’t miss you. John, seriously, four.”

“Three,” John countered firmly.

Lestrade shot John a look of frustration but nodded finally before leading them to an unused conference room after picking up a stuffed file folder from his desk.

00000000000000

“What did you promise him?” Sherlock asked curiously as they were bent over cartons of Chinese after four hours of legwork.

“I told him I would babysit for him a couple of times if he was able to work us into his schedule the day you got in,” John answered before devouring two cream cheese wontons at once.

“I can’t believe you agreed to babysit three times,” Sherlock answered, “I would expect you to haggle a bit better than that.”

“I did,” John giggled, “We started the haggling at ten.”

“I…” Sherlock began before sighing, “Thank you. This has been a most enjoyable first day back in London.”

“I’m glad,” John answered, “Now, I’m off. I do actually have to get something accomplished today. See you tomorrow for lunch?”

“Of course,” Sherlock said.

“Alright,” John said grabbing his jacket, “Don’t stay here all night, yeah?”

“Will it appease you if I say that I won’t?” Sherlock asked.

“Will you be telling the truth?” John countered.

“Not in the slightest,” Sherlock responded.

“Git,” John laughed, “Bye, Sherlock.”

“Goodnight, John,” Sherlock answered already with his nose buried in a file folder.

00000000000000

“Would you stop?” Murray said shoving John out of the bathroom so he took piss finally, “You’re being ridiculous.”

“What?” John said, “I’m not being ridiculous. I’m just getting ready.”

“You’ve been getting ready for the past hour and a half,” Murray countered, yelling through the door, “You! Who has repeatedly gone to class in the clothes you slept in the night before.”

“I’m just…” John tried again.

“I know exactly what you are doing,” Murray called out punctuating his statement with a flush of the toilet, “It would just be really nice if you would own up to it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” John said stubbornly.

“You’re in love with that ponce!” Murray practically yelled at him, “When are you going to admit it?”

“I am not,” John said, shocked.

“You keep telling yourself that,” Murray responded, “If it gives you comfort.”

“He’s one of my best mates,” John answered.

“So, you’d agree to babysit a toddler for all of your best mates?” Murray asked.

“Yes,” John replied.

“Multiple times?” Murray asked.

“Of course,” John answered.

“John,” Murray said sounding exasperated, “You spent hours on that absurd glittery sign.”

“That was comedic,” John answered.

“You spent the last twenty quid you had to purchase helium balloons,” Murray answered.

“It was funny,” John said, but he was finally starting to sound unsure.

“It was adorable,” Murray said, finally lowering his voice, “That’s what it was.”

“I’m…” John tried, “I’m late. I gotta go.”

John made his way to the door but was stopped by Murray’s hand holding onto his shoulder.

“It’s not a bad thing,” his friend said quietly, “But if you don’t acknowledge it, how are you ever going to do anything about it.”

“And what would I do about it,” John sighed heavily.

“Whatever you want,” was Murray’s answer, “But don’t you think that it’s at least a possibility with all of your history that it’s reciprocated?”

00000000000000

“Leaving then?” Lestrade asked as he set a fresh coffee on his desk and placed his lunch on his desk as he got ready for his day. He’d arrived this morning at seven to see Sherlock still working on the case files.

“Hardly,” Sherlock answered, “This case is just starting to get interesting. Just out to get some coffee.”

“We have coffee here,” Lestrade answered.

“Actual coffee,” Sherlock snarked, “Not bitter brown water.”

Sherlock made his way out of the building and a block away to get some decent caffeine. He was crossing through a local park when he was knocked over into the lawn by a dog. Sherlock caught himself before face planting but was barely able to get back on his feet before the large beast knocked him to the ground again licking his face furiously and laying heavily on his chest.

“Florence!” a male voice called loudly, “NO! Bad dog!”

The dog was physically removed and Sherlock was once again able to stagger to his feet. Someone grabbed his elbow and he was just about to shake them off when he glanced up and met a pair of incredibly green eyes.

“I’m so terribly sorry about that,” the man said sounding upset, “My sister’s dog. She’s a lover but she’s incredibly aggressive about it. I’m Victor, by the way. Victor Trevor.”

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, man! I actually posted something. Amazing. hahaha.
> 
> I'm tentatively planning on three or four more little parts before wrapping up this fic and tying it with a bow. Sorry that it took so long and I hope that you enjoy it!
> 
> couchbarnacle.


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